


Snowdrops

by grumkin_snark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, GOT Secret Santa, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumkin_snark/pseuds/grumkin_snark
Summary: With all the kids doing their own thing for the holidays, Catelyn's not really feeling the spirit this year.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Robb Stark/Rhaenys Targaryen (mentioned), Sansa Stark/Mya Stone (mentioned)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Snowdrops

**Author's Note:**

> For @rhoynishnym in the @gotsecretsanta exchange on Tumblr. Happy holidays!

Snow blankets the ground, the interior of the house is half-decorated, the exterior nearly there as well. This should all be her bread and butter, and yet…

Catelyn sighs and stops what she’s doing. She looks at the mesh of red-and-green string lights in her hands that she’d been draping over the bushes, then looks to Ned, up on the ladder affixing blue-and-white lights to the eaves.

“Should we even bother with this at all?” she asks, leaning up against a column to better see Ned. “Not one of the kids will be here this year, it’ll just be us. Do we need so much decoration? The more we put up, the more we’ll have to take down.”

Ned sets the staple gun in the gutter and steps down the ladder, wholly skeptical. “ _You_ don’t want to celebrate? Cat, you _love_ this.”

“I know. But it doesn’t feel the same without our family here. It doesn’t feel like Christmas to me. Does it truly feel like Hanukkah to you with the house so empty?”

“Ben’s coming in a few days,” Ned reminds her.

“Who wouldn’t mind fewer decorations, I’m sure.”

Ned is quiet for several moments, then says, “Well, I need to at least finish the lights.”

“Yes, do that,” Catelyn agrees. “People might think you had a stroke partway through.”

She, too, finishes the lights on the bushes but doesn’t change her mind on the celebrating. For eighteen years they’d had a full, or mostly full, home in wintertime. Until this year, when her children are all either with their partner’s family or with friends or curmudgeonly staying at their dorm over break instead of making the trip back.

Maybe next year would be different. But right now, a mug of hot chocolate and watching overacted Hallmark movies with Ned sounds like a plan.

* * *

It’s a perfectly acceptable week, never mind Ned’s not-so-infrequent glances of concern. Come Christmas Day, the woe of an empty nest does niggle at her, but she consoles herself with knowing that it won’t take half as long to put all the decorations back in boxes than in years past. And, to be fair, the kids _did_ text her that morning.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” plays in the background as she helps Ned and Benjen make dinner, when the doorbell rings.

Catelyn checks her watch. “It’s eight o’clock, who’d be at our door now? Are you expecting anyone?”

“Maybe it’s one of the neighbors?” Ned shrugs.

“As long as it’s not Walder Frey telling us we’ve violated some mystical HOA rule again,” Catelyn grumbles as she heads to the door.

It isn’t Walder Frey.

Instead, she’s greeted by all five of her children, plus several other someones. “Merry Christmas, Ma,” Robb smiles. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Late?” Catelyn splutters, thoroughly surprised in the best way. “You said you weren’t coming!”

“And miss out on Uncle Ben’s latkes?” Arya scoffs, brushing right past Catelyn in search of the kitchen. “Fat chance.”

The rest file in, with less urgency—Robb, with Rhaenys on his arm and the baby asleep in her carrier; Sansa, shyly introducing Mya, whom Catelyn has heard about but never met; Rickon, with hair that is in _desperate_ need of a cut and a beard that would shame the Yeti.

And Bran, quiet Bran, wheeling in behind them and pulling off his gloves. “Jon and Aunt Lya will be along, too,” he tells her. “They got caught in the snowstorm so it’ll be a couple hours.”

Once upon a time, Catelyn would have been appalled that Lyanna would drive through a snowstorm, would insist she do exactly the opposite of that, but after two decades of knowing the woman, she’s well-aware her words would—and have—fall on deaf ears.

Catelyn leans down to give Bran a hug. “Was this all your doing?”

“I might’ve helped. But I wasn’t the mastermind.” He inclines his head towards his father, who is _brimming_ with self-satisfied smugness as he hands Sansa and Rhaenys ornaments to place on the tree. “Dad’s very good at guilt-tripping when he wants to be.”

Catelyn laughs. “That he is. Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

As the night wears on, as dinner is eaten and dessert is served and games are played, Catelyn feels her holiday spirit return in full force. One day, she would have to accept, perhaps, that her children have their own lives to live and getting everyone together every year would become quite improbable, but for one more year at least, she has her home—and heart—full.


End file.
